


Chewbacca

by CaptainCapsicoul



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Just dorks being dorks, M/M, Secret Santas, Swearing, lots of fluff, mention of anal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:58:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCapsicoul/pseuds/CaptainCapsicoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the holidays on the Hermes, and there's a dinner to prepare. Enter Chewbacca, or Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanza/other-holidays-because-we're-inclusive-as-fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chewbacca

**Author's Note:**

> For [ystlumod-dyslecsig-deillion](http://ystlumod-dyslecsig-deillion.tumblr.com) for The Martian Secret Santa! Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Just some fluff with the Ares 3 crew being awesome.
> 
> Come visit me on my tumblr: [ithewhimsy](http://ithewhimsy.tumblr.com)! Where I yell about Stucky, Steggy, all things Marvel, the Martian, and lots of cute things.

**Log Entry: Mission Day 736 (1)**

It was the fresh potatoes that saved my life on Mars, and all because NASA wanted us to be able to cook a festive meal together to raise morale or some shit like that. Well what those buggers didn’t account for was me getting stuck on Mars, having to use said potatoes and my own feces and sheer wit and will to stay alive, and also for the crew to be in space many (many, many, many, _many_ ) more days than planned. Because of that, they had to find a way to send us more fresh produce so we could make a Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanza/other-holidays-because-we’re inclusive-as-fuck meal in their little probe they sent up that allowed them to stay alive so they could save my sorry ass.

(My ass is great, thank you very much)

So there we were…me, bossy Beck, and Johanssen in the “kitchen” chopping all the fixings for our Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanza/other-holidays-because-we’re inclusive-as-fuck meal. I’m going to need a way to shorten that. CHKOHBWIAF? Chewbacca. There we go. There’s a C and an H and a K and an A…You know what, shut up, because the remake was good and I dressed up and saw it like 3 times in opening weekend. Whatever. Anyway.

The three of us were chopping things for our Chewbacca dinner, and I was very pleased to see that there wasn’t a potato in sight. Until our darling commander cut all my dreams short.

“Hey guys, I found this tucked away in a corner,” Lewis said, handing Beck a small sack.

“No, no, no,” I cried, waving my hands in front of my face trying to keep them away. I knew what they were.

“Beck, make sure that these get made, okay?”

“Aye-aye cap’n,” Beck said, taking the bag and saluting.

“Awww, is Mark-y having trouble because the big bad potatoes are gonna get him?” Johanssen joked.

“Fuck off,” I told her. God, even the smell of those things make me want to curl in a ball and die. The two fuckers tried to get me to be in charge of the damn potatoes, but fuck them, right? I kept on going with the green bean casserole and the rolls.

“Where are Martinez and Vogel? Shouldn’t they be helping?” I asked, laying the green beans in the casserole dish neatly.

“Martinez is finishing up some diagnostics and Vogel was messing around with something.”

“Helpful,” I said tersely. Of course Johanssen would give me a vague answer. “So they’re finishing their secret santa.”

I was met with silence.

We focused on our own dishes for a while, Beck humming Christmas carols under his breath.

“Aren’t you Jewish?” I asked, putting the casserole in our convection oven.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t like Christmas music, right?” Beck replied. “Would you rather I go around singing _Fiddler on the Roof_?”

“Couldn’t be worse than hearing you butcher _Jingle Bell Rock_. Seriously, man, who do you even mess that up?”

Beck took a deep breath. And then started singing. That bastard. “ _Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match!_ ” he sang, dancing around the small kitchen, tapping on both me and Johanssen. “ _Find me a find, catch me a catch!_ ”

“Okay, you can stop now!” I cried, covering my ears. “You made your point!”

Beck only grabbed my hand (and I resolutely ignored the heat that came to my face…) and Johanssen’s and pulled us along together.

“ _Matchmaker, matchmaker, look through your book, and make me a perfect match!_ ”

“What the hell is going on in here?!” Martinez asked, obviously trying to conceal his laughter.

“I had nothing to do with it,” I said quickly, pulling my hand from where it was in a pile with Beck’s and Johanssen’s.

“You guys are weird. Lewis sent me to prepare the ham. Where is it?”

“Should be in that cupboard,” Johanssen said, pointing at one of the metal latches on the wall. “I’d be careful…it looked kind of scary…all in a can and stuff.”

Martinez shook his head, but went to the cabinet anyway. He pulled out this vile looking can that said in NASA issued font: _Ham for Ares 3 Christmas etc_.

“Lovely,” Martinez said shortly. He popped the lid off and grimaced at the smell. “We gotta find Vogel and see if he can’t whip up some chemical something that will make this not terrible. At least we’ve got potatoes, right?” The bastard punched in my in the arm. Asshole.

“Hey, I’m still weak!”

“It’s been months,” Beck chimed in. Traitor. “Your body mass is coming back. Perfectly suitable for punching every so often.”

I did the only mature thing I could think of and stuck my tongue out at him.

 

**Log Entry: Mission Day 736 (2)**

I’m back at my bunk now. I’m still on doctor-ordered bed rest for a few hours a day, just to make sure that I don’t over exert myself. Have I mentioned recently that Beck is bossy and annoying and beautiful? Wait…I didn’t mean to write that…shit.

Well, I’m sure it’s not hard to believe. What’s a guy to do? It’s been years. Years, I tell you. When you’re not at all attracted to women, and two of the three other guys in are married with children, there’s really no surprise. Lucky for me, these entries are now only for me and not for the world.

But anyway. Yeah…Chris Beck. That man. He is infuriating and charming and bossy and wonderful and irritating and calming and everything in between. When I got back, I had heard that he and Johanssen had been shacking up together, but Beth told me that it was purely platonic. She has someone back on Earth who she just hasn’t told anyone about because it’s easier that way. According to her, it’s also easier to just let them think that she and Beck are a thing. Would keep suspicion off of me. Sweet woman, thinking about me. I told her that and she slapped me.

So yeah…here I am. Dinner was cooking last time I checked on it, but I’m on bed rest for a bit longer before I can join in the festivities.

We’re having a dinner and party in the rec room later tonight, so that should be really enjoyable. Commander Lewis decided we needed to up morale even more, so we did a secret santa thing. It’s hard to do when you’re in space and have no means by which to get anything that’s not already in your spaceship. And also to keep secrets, because everyone is in each other’s business always. It’s a surprise that no one has figured out my little secret. I guess I’m just good at keeping secrets.

So we’ve all been doing things that have to do with our own specialties. At least, that’s what I assume everyone is doing, because that’s what I did. I made a little terrarium for Chris, because what else would I do? I took a little sprig of one of the rarer plants we have on board and made sure it budded on a soft bed of moss before sealing the terrarium. It’s growing nicely, and it’s been keeping up well. I think it’ll be nice for Chris to put a little bit of real nature in his bunk.

I want to know who got me. I’ve been wondering it since we drew names from a mug. I’m excited to give Chris his present, but I’m also nervous. What if I put more thought into it than everyone else? How awkward would that be. Fuck it, I don’t care. This secret santa thing is probably the closest I’ll ever get to being able to tell Chris how I feel. At least until we get back to Earth. Which won’t be for a while yet.

I should try and actually rest for a bit, because for all I mock Beck about being bossy and everything, I still get fatigued really easily, and I’ve had a big day already what with the cooking and dancing and stuff. I think I’ll definitely need a nap if I want to keep up with tonight.

 

**Audio Log Entry: Mission Day 736 (4)**

I. Fucking. Hate. Disco.

 

**Log Entry: Mission Day 736 (5)**

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. I HAVE SO MANY EMOTIONS AND FEELINGS RIGHT NOW.

Okay let me back up.

That audio log was from during the party when Lewis decided that we needed music so she played disco. I threw a pillow at her.

But let me back up more.

So I woke up from my nap and was all bleary and such when I smelled something delicious. I padded to the kitchen to see Vogel and Martinez standing over the stove, poking something in a frying pan.

“What’s that smell?” I asked, sniffing the air.

“That would be the canned ham!” Martinez cried in joy. “Vogel here cooked something up that both masks the flavor of the gross ham and imitates flavor of real ham and also smells delicious.”

“Huh,” I grunted. I went to the fridge to grab a water bag and cleared by mouth of the terrible i-fell-asleep-so-something-decided-it-was-appropriate-to-just-go-and-die-in-it taste.

“How’s it going in here? Almost ready?” Commander Lewis asked. “Beck and Johanssen almost have the table set and ready to go.”

“Five more minutes, Commander,” Vogel replied. She left and I joined the other two to sniff at the ham. It looked passable as well, so that was a win.

Everyone came into the kitchen to get some food and bring it out to the table. It did look festive and legit, if I do say…

There are wreaths and menorahs around (Beck gave be a looooooong speech about the difference between menorah and hanukkiyah – is that how you spell it?? – and how the menorah has seven stems and the hannukkiya – maybe this?? – has nine…but I digress. The things in the rec room are hannukiahs – could this be it?? –, but menorah is easier to type and say, so suck my dick, Beck. Wait what.) and lot of cute lights and other festive decorations representing all the other holidays because we’re inclusive as fuck, as stated by the name of this dinner/gather/festivity.

“All right,” Lewis said, bringing us together. “I know we all missed Thanksgiving together, so let’s go around and say what we’re thankful for before we start on this beautiful meal. Vogel, do you want to start?”

“Sure,” he replied. “I am thankful for my wife and kids, and for Beth who so quickly figured out what was wrong with my email that one time.” Johanssen smiled back at Vogel. Yeah, I’m pretty fucking thankful for that too.

“I’ll go…I’m thankful that I didn’t have to eat any of you.”

A titter of laughter went around the room, but let’s be real…I’m sure they’re all happy Johanssen didn’t have to eat them.

“I’m thankful for MMUs and to Vogel for making it possible for me to not jump into the equivalent of a moving train.”

“You’re certainly welcome, Beck. I am also glad that it did not come to that. I’m sure everyone is. We have much to be thankful for.”

“I’m thankful to have such an amazing crew. You guys tick me off sometimes, but you really are something special, and I couldn’t ask for anything better.”

“Awww, Commander, you shouldn’t have,” Martinez said, pretending to blush.

“Except for you, Martinez.”

He huffed. “Well _I’m_ thankful that we went to Mars and not Uranus, because I’m pretty sure no one wants to go there…ever.”

“You’re disgusting,” Johanssen said. “There’s nothing wrong with anal sex.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, we’re at the dinner table,” Beck cried.

“Do you have a problem with anal sex?” Johanssen challenged.

I didn’t want to know the answer.

“Okay!” I chimed in, saving a very red Beck. “I’m thankful for Rich Purnell and Mindy Park and all the people at JPL and Jiuquan and _Taiyang Shen_ , and everyone on board this ship. And as much as I hate to say it,” I paused dramatically. “…potatoes.”

Everyone tried to surreptitiously dry their eyes, and I patted myself on the back for making them all cry.

We feasted and the canned ham was actually edible. It tasted wonderful. I steered clear from any of the potato dishes (why were there so many?!) but I ate a lot of canned ham and stuffing and green bean casserole. There was laughing and chatting, and everything was well and good.

I was seated next to Beck, so if our legs brushed every so often at the over crowded table, or our hands bumped each other while we tried to cut our food, I wasn’t complaining. Perhaps I should have been, but I wasn’t. Each touch sent zings of energy through my body and I felt like a teenage boy. I always feel like a teenage boy around Beck. When he first came to the opening in the MAV, I was a hairbreadths away from pulling off my helmet and kissing him right there and then. I mean, not actually. I was in my right mind enough to not do that, because I might be dumb sometimes, but I’m not a fucking idiot.

Anyway…back to dinner.

So everyone ate. It was delicious. We sat around in couches bemoaning out distended stomachs. Though they sent us provisions, we’re still careful to ration cautiously in case something happens and we need to have more time in space than expected (well…more than already), so this was the most any of us had eaten in a long time.

“We need some tunes,” Martinez groaned, his hands laying protectively around his belly.

Without a word, Lewis started some ABBA music and I just lost it. I was too tired and full to actually do anything, but I did throw my pillow at her. Johanssen took over the music thing and played something half decent. But hey, anything’s better than disco. Because I fucking _hate_ disco.

After about an hour of lying around groaning to each other, we all started getting antsy about presents. None of us had gotten any presents in a loooong time, so this was a big deal! Over the course of the day, we had all brought our presents down to the rec room when no one else was around. So there was a smattering of oddly shaped wrapped things on the table. It was very cute and I was very excited.

“So how does this work?” Vogel asked, rubbing his hands together.

“Someone goes first. They pick their present and then try and guess who gave it to them. Then that person picks their present and so on and so forth,” Johanssen explained. “Got it?”

“ _Ja_ ,” Vogel replied. “Who goes first?”

“Commander?” Johanssen asked.

“Sure.”

Lewis picked up a small package that had her name on it. She opened it carefully and it was an enclosed bottle with a clear gelatinous liquid. She popped the top and there was a gel roller, like the ones we use for deodorant. She took an experimental sniff, and she smiled. “Vogel!” she said happily. “You made me perfume!”

“ _Ja_ ,” he answered. “Simple chemical processes. Not to insinuate that you smell, Commander,” he added with a smile.

“Of course not. How sweet. Okay, now you pick your present!”

There was a small, flat card with his name printing neatly on the front. He opened it to find a simple USB.

“Plug it in!” I called, wanting to know what was on it. Vogel walked cautiously to the communal computer an booted it up. Numbers and letters flew across the screen until it read:

**ENTER ANY CHEMICAL ELEMENT OR COMBINATION OF ELEMENTS**

Wary, Vogel typed in

**AU**

The screen told him to wait, and seconds later, a beautiful pattern emerged. Fractals.

Vogel cried out in joy. “So beautiful!”

**ANOTHER? Y/N** the screen prompted.

**Y**

**ENTER ANY CHEMICAL ELEMENT OR COMBINATION OF ELEMENTS**

This time, Vogel entered something more complicated.

**C2H6O**

Another picture formed, this one different but still a fractal.

“This must be the work of Johanssen,” Vogel said, eyes still glued to the screen.

“Sure is,” Johanssen said proudly. “Enter any chemical formula and it’ll give you the fractal pattern for that substance.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Johanssen said with a smile. She took her present and laughed when she opened it. It was one of those homemade coupon books from Martinez that had things like “One free fart in your face” and “one free loop-de-loop” and other ridiculous things. Johanssen held it close to her chest and thanked Martinez.

Martinez went for his present, which was a t-shirt drawn on with many of the sharpies that the Hermes had. On the front it said “I went to Uranus” and had an arrow going over the shoulder. The back said, “I made a pit stop at Mars.” The planets were beautifully drawn, especially for being on fabric with sharpies.

“This is amazing! Watney, was this you?”

I shook my head. “Do you think I have that much artistic talent? Ha!”

“Beck?”

“I might be good with a scalpel, but I’m shit with a pen and paper.”

“Commander?”

“Guilty,” she said, raising her hand slightly. “My husband and I don’t just collect records. We also love doing art together.”

“Wait,” Johanssen said, looking around at everyone. “We’ve gone in a full circle, so that means you two have each other.”

Beck and I looked at each other. I could see the tips of his ears turning red, and I felt my face flush.

“Want to go first?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, because why not.

I reached for an oddly shaped present and opened it slowly. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. As the wrapping paper fell away, I was left with a beautiful little doll-like thing made out of medical wrap and stuffed with what felt like cotton balls. It was sewn together with surgical stitches, neatly tied off at the ends. Textbook perfect. Just like Beck.

The doll had bruises and scars across its body, but it was beautiful. I looked up at Beck, who was staring at his hands. “It’s supposed to be you when you first got back and you can use it to remember how far you’ve come. The bruises are removable, so you can take them off or put them on, depending on how you’re feeling. I thought it would be nice to have something to ground you.”

“Thank you,” I said, tears welling in my eyes. I could tell that Chris had some in his eyes as well. “Really, this is amazing. Thank you, Chris.”

He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome. Should I?”

“Oh yeah,” I said, tearing my eyes from my little doll. “Just…be careful.”

Chris gently took the present and let out an audible gasp when he saw what it was. The sprigs had grown nicely, creating a lush green. Condensation dripped down the sides, just as it should. Moss covered the ground, looking spongy and welcoming. Right in the middle, I managed to use some caulking to sculpt a figure that was bending down and look as if to be tending to the terrarium.

“Wow,” Chris said, his voice reverent. “It’s gorgeous.”

“I thought you could put it in your bunk,” I heard myself saying. “To remind you of home.”

“Thank you,” Chris repeated. “I love it.” He caught my eye and we just stared at each other smiling. If they didn’t know before, then they certainly knew then.

I flushed with happiness. He liked it! He really, really liked it!

“Wow, that was amazing you guys,” Lewis said, breaking the moment. “These were some awesome presents. What a wonderful way to share the holidays.”

Agreement rippled around the room. We work hard, and it was nice to take a night off to relax and hang out with each other and not have to think about how we’re hurdling across space with only a few layers of metal between us and a certain death.

“But enough sitting around,” Lewis started, her Commander voice in full force. “We’ve got work to do. Watney, Johanssen, and Vogel: you’re on clean up. Vogel, I expect you to keep these goons in line. Martinez, check on our route and make sure that everything is going well. Beck, help in the kitchen with putting away food and clean dishes. I’m going to run a general diagnostic and then come help clean up. Once you’re done, report to your stations to do your nightly routines and then off to bed. Regular day tomorrow. Dismissed.”

There was a flurry of movement as people dispersed. I helped clean and then shut down my botanical station for the night. The whole time, I was distracted by the beautiful doll that Chris had made me. So much care and dedication had gone into its conception, and it would definitely be nice to have something to ground me on my bad days.

I went to my bunk at the end of the night and did my nightly routine there. I was lying in bed reading some reports NASA sent me about what would happen when we got back when I heard a knock at my door.

“Come in,” I called.

The door opened slowly and Beck came in with timid steps.

“Hey,” I said, quietly.

“Hey,” he replied.

“Thanks so much for the doll,” I nodded at where it was perched on my pillow.

“And thanks for the terrarium. It really brightens up my bunk.”

I smiled. He smiled. There was a lot of smiling.

“What can I help you with?” I asked, scooting up on my cot, making room for him to sit on it.

“Um…There’s a card that goes with your present, but I didn’t want to give it to you in front of all of them. So, uh…here.”

He handed me a card that was slightly crumpled at the edges, as if he’d fidgeted with it a whole bunch.

I’m not going to say what was written in the card, because that’s between me and him, but I will tell you that what happened next is not at all suitable for writing down _anywhere_ , and I _may_ move some of those bruises on my doll to different places on my body.

 

**Audio Log Entry: Mission Day 737**

I have to whisper because I have a bossy doctor sleeping on my chest. I just want to say…best Chewbacca ever.


End file.
